


And Howe

by DoctorSyntax



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Facials, Fighting Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 02:58:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorSyntax/pseuds/DoctorSyntax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Hawks-Jets 11.02.13 - How Brandon Bollig scored himself an unofficial Gordie Howe hat trick and got his hands on his captain's dick all in the same night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Howe

Brandon's halfway through packing up his shit to leave, thankful his fifteen minutes of fame or whatever are over, when he feels a punch to his shoulder and looks up. He's expecting Shawzy or maybe Bicks, but it's Tazer at his wing. "Good game, Boller," Tazer says with a bro nod. "Stop by my hotel room real quick before you go out?"

Brandon nods, going back to tying his shoelace. He has no idea what Tazer wants, but when Captain Serious summons you to his quarters after a career game, you go.

He's not sure why Tazer doesn't just wait for him, but it doesn't surprise him that much. Tazer rarely makes sense to anyone but Tazer. Generally to Kaner, also, but when Brandon shoots him a look Kaner just shrugs. So Brandon trails maybe five minutes behind Tazer and wonders the entire time what the hell's in store for him; by the time he knocks, he's convinced Tazer's about to murder him and just didn't want any witnesses.

Bad job inviting Brandon over in the locker room, then, Captain Serious. Shawzy will for sure come looking for him if Brandon doesn't surface in a couple hours. Probably. Tazer yells that it's open, because apparently Canadian politeness doesn't extend to opening the damn door when you invite people over, and Brandon walks into his own possible murder scene.

He's barely shut the door and Tazer's on him, shoving him rough against the wall next to the door, which, _ow_ there's a lightswitch there, digging into his back and he has no idea _what the actual fuck is happening right now_. Tazer gets right up in Brandon's face, so close Brandon can feel the warmth of his breath when he says in his unreadable monotone, "No face shots. Clean hits, I know you know how," and Brandon's not even halfway finished parsing that when Tazer hauls back and punches him in the pectoral.

Fighting back is all instinct, even as he's still processing Tazer's words. He gets Tazer low in the stomach and uses the way Tazer curls in on himself, grabbing at the back of Tazer's t-shirt and yanking. It's not enough to get his shirt off, and Tazer's fist contacts hard with Brandon's thigh. Tazer's damn lucky he's right, that Brandon does know how to land clean hits—where to punch for maximum impact and least damage—because right now Tazer's kidneys are right there and it'd be a matter of seconds to take him down and end this fight entirely.

Unfortunately, it's pretty much the only part of Tazer's body that he can get at right now, so he skips the punch entirely and smacks Tazer hard on the ass. Tazer makes a noise like he's dying or being strangled or god even knows what, maybe like he finds it really hot—which, hey, is alright with Brandon. If they keep this up, the adrenaline circulating in his blood is going to go straight to his dick, okay, he's coming off a great game and he's only human. Tazer twists out of his grip, face flushed and red, and Brandon lets him, thinking maybe he's gone too far. Shown his hand. 

But then Tazer gets that stupidly determined look on his face—Brandon practices with the man, okay, it's Tazer's "I'm gonna win this" expression because he's a cocky fucker who doesn't know how to admit when he's lost. Like, all of the world has watched him fight and ninety-eight percent of it has laughed at him doing it, and Brandon? He's a fucking _enforcer_. The odds are stacked, even if Tazer doesn't want to admit it. 

Brandon easily catches the right Tazer throws his way and keeps his fist around Tazer's hand. Tazer had made the mistake of locking his elbow on the hook and Brandon doesn't require any extra leverage for him to walk them both toward the bed, shoving Tazer backward by the arm. Tazer's knees hit the mattress and he falls back; Brandon climbs onto the bed to pin him, not touching except where his knees are bracketing Tazer into place.

"Get off me," Tazer grumbles, getting his hands on Brandon's chest and shoving, but Brandon's a bigger guy, end of story, and he doesn't budge. He doesn't want to. He still has no idea what this fight was about, though, so he thinks he probably should.

"Fight over?" he asks. "You hit the ground, refs gonna separate us?"

"Yeah," Tazer breathes, going still beneath Brandon. His eyes are going kind of wild, scanning everywhere except Brandon's face. "Yeah, uncle."

Brandon snorts a little but starts to move to get up. It's on the tip of his tongue to ask why—he wants to know, and he wants to distract Tazer from how he's half-hard from a frankly sub-par skirmish—but instead he ends up complexly blindsided by Tazer grabbing him and pushing him down onto his back. Tazer takes advantage of Brandon's surprise to manhandle him into an almost-sitting position against the bed pillows, straddling his hips. And. Oh. Tazer's kind of hard, too, and the way he's looking at Brandon says continuing the fight is the furthest thing from his mind.

And this is… not completely out of left field. Brandon hasn't been around as long as some of the other guys, isn't privy to these kinds of confidences yet, but Kaner's subtlety is not one of his strong points, and Shawzy likes to keep him in the loop to make him feel less alone, or whatever. So, yeah, he knows Tazer probably does guys sometimes.

He just never thought he'd be one of them.

"Tell me if I need to stop," Tazer says, still a little breathless with adrenaline, as he rubs his hand over Brandon's dick through his jeans.

"Don't you fucking dare," is the only thing Brandon can think to say, reaching up to pull Tazer down for a kiss. It doesn't even occur to him until their faces are basically mashed together that he probably should have asked first, but Tazer's making a low noise and trying to stick his tongue down Brandon's throat, so Brandon feels pretty confident about it after all.

"Ugh," Tazer says, turning his face away after a minute, and is occurs to Brandon that Tazer's been yanking at Brandon's belt. "Get these the fuck off," he orders, like Brandon's jeans have personally offended him by existing, and Brandon smirks because of course Tazer's going to be as bossy in bed as he is in real life. But he can give as good as he gets, and the chemical high from their fight is only egging him on.

"Yours first," he says, fumbling with Tazer's pants, shoving them and his boxers down past Tazer's hips. And—god damn, he really wants to get his hand on Tazer's dick, which is not a thought he's had before in his life, but this seems like the afternoon to trust his instincts, so he goes with it. It's blood-hot and firm in his grip, and Tazer momentarily forgets about Brandon's jeans to go with the motions of Brandon's hand. Fuck, yeah, Brandon's cool with that. But then Tazer seems to remember himself and bats Brandon's hand away with a scowl, redoubling his efforts to get Brandon's pants down.

And when he finally does, he basically attempts to swallow Brandon's dick whole, which, _damn_. Tazer's good at what he does—big fucking surprise there, has to be the best in everything, including apparently cocksucking; way to go for the gold, Tazer—and Brandon's just going to sit back and enjoy this, okay, which is why he's making these stupid, _stupid_ noises and grabbing at the sheets a little. Tazer has the audacity to laugh at Brandon around his mouthful of dick, which is basically the most unfair thing that has ever happened to Brandon, doubly so because the vibrations from Tazer's damn _amusement_ are threatening to push him over the edge. 

And it's only been like, three minutes, which is embarrassing. Brandon's always pretty riled up after games and/or fights; on the nights when he gets to have both, he's pretty much sporting a semi for the rest of the evening, but still. This gonna be over way too fast. He threads his hands in Tazer's hair and pulls but doesn't yank, hoping to communicate _slow the fuck down, dude, draw it out_ without having to say it. It ends up having the opposite effect, because the minute Brandon's fingers tighten, Tazer fucking moans around his dick like he's a goddamn porn star or something, what the fuck even. There's no reason Brandon should find any of this hot.

"Get off," he orders, yanking a little harder at Tazer's hair. "Get the fuck up, asshole, I want to come on your stupid face." That gets Tazer scrambling up to his knees, and for a half-second Brandon thinks it's to slap him or something—until he catches sight of Tazer's eyes, even darker than usual, pupils fucking blown out because he apparently really, really _wants_ Brandon's jizz on his face. Huh. That is not actually something Brandon ever saw coming. (Coming, heh.)

Brandon's feeling pretty magnanimous after his banner night that included a goal, an assist, and a fight—god damn, he thinks, feeling stupid as it hits him all at once that Tazer brought him up here so he could get his fucking Gordie Howe— _fuck_ , yeah, Brandon's feeling really good about his decision to come all over Tazer's face.

It's difficult to move effectively with his pants bunched up around his thighs, but he manages to move himself and then shove Tazer around until they've switched positions. Tazer looks obscene propped up against the pillows, lips dark and a little swollen from sucking cock, eyes darker and focused all on Brandon, and Brandon just wants to _fuck him up_.

"C'mon, touch yourself," he says, before he realizes he's saying anything. "Wanna see you."

Tazer inhales a ragged breath and complies, never taking his eyes off Brandon's dick. Having that kind of focus directed at him should probably freak Brandon out—Tazer's nickname isn't fucking _Tazer_ for no reason—but somehow it's the hottest thing that's happened to him all year. He has to lean forward enough to prop one arm against the pillow because he's so fucking close, and that's when he and Tazer finally make eye contact. Tazer's mouth drops open a little as he works his own dick, and—fuck, yep, that's it, that's apparently all Brandon needed to come. As soon as the first spurt of jizz hits Tazer's face, Tazer's eyes flutter shut like he can't even handle how hot this is. Still, Brandon's careful to keep his dick angled toward Tazer's mouth and chin, because he doesn't want Tazer to have to explain to the trainers why he's having trouble seeing around the jizz in his fucking eye. It's a win-win situation, though, because some of his come gets directly in Tazer's open mouth, and Tazer swallows it without a second thought and _wets his lips_ like he's asking for more.

"Fuck, yeah," Brandon says roughly, because _damn_.

"Fucking touch me," Tazer orders, eyes popping open like he can sense Brandon slacking off or something. He grabs Brandon's hand and wipes it through the come on his face and, ugh, Brandon can totally get down like that. He gets his sorta-slick hand on Tazer's dick, which is so hard there's no way he isn't seconds from finishing, and finds a good rhythm. He's right; it isn't long before Tazer's swearing up a blue streak and clutching at Brandon's arm. Brandon keeps right on jacking him, watching Tazer get come fucking _everywhere_ before Tazer eventually makes him let go. 

Tazer takes a deep breath and sinks back into the pillow on the exhale, and Brandon just watches him for a second, having literally not the first idea what to say. He's never been in a situation like this. "Good game, Boller," Tazer says again, and Brandon chokes on a laugh.

"Yeah, uh—you too, man," he says awkwardly, because _what even_. "Thanks, you know? For the Gordie Howe."

Tazer snorts, getting up. Brandon moves to let him, watches him head into the bathroom. While he's in there, Brandon gets up and stretches, taking inventory. He might have a nasty bruise on his thigh tomorrow, but other than that he'll probably be fine, and he's definitely feeling that post-coital languid satisfaction, so no complaints from him.

When Tazer comes back out of the bathroom, his face is clean and Brandon's guessing his teeth are brushed, too, but there's still jizz on his neck and t-shirt. Five minutes ago it would have been stupidly hot; now it's just a little strange. "I'm going to take a shower, I have to leave soon," Tazer says, running a hand through his hair. "My parents are expecting me and Kaner for dinner."

And Brandon just—gives up. This situation is just too surreal _not_ to laugh a little. Tazer's too weird not to. Leave it to Captain Serious to overhear Brandon's post-game interview and decide he's like, pining for a fight or something. And then fuck him afterwards.

Tazer makes a face like he doesn't understand why Brandon laughed but is annoyed by it anyway. Tazer's such a fucking weirdo. "Okay, bye," he's saying. "Let yourself out, yeah?"

"For sure," Brandon says, smiling broadly. He does up the buttons on his jeans and salutes. "See you later, o captain my captain."

Tazer rolls his eyes. "Fuck off."

And Brandon does, whistling to himself as he heads down the hall. All in all, not a bad afternoon.


End file.
